A Sad Tale of Love & Hate
by Dex477
Summary: Harry's worst fear comes to pass when he is cursed with a particular Dark spell that comes between him and his beloved. Hopefully free from grammatical/spelling errors. Alternate ending will remain unwritten.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for reading this! I would like to say that you have discovered a good work of fanfiction, but I'll leave you guys to decide that I hope you love it! I appreciate readers more than you know, but I am also a fanfiction reader, so feel free to direct me to your own works. If you like it, tell others, and if you don't like it, tell me! Thanks-Dex :)

A/N: Because all stories deserve an option between a deliciously dark ending and a beautifully bright ending, choose which one you want to read by the time you finish chapter 13, or both

Chapter 1

A/N: This is the chapter where I had the most fun with the descriptions. It's pretty obvious that I did, too.

Far out to sea, a thunderstorm raged. Pounding rain and screaming wind whipped around what little scenery it had: A stone structure, best described as a pillar, far out to sea.

Almost foolishly, it seemed, the top of this structure poked at the base of the already furious thunderheads. Lightning danced, adding a dangerous light show to the howling wind orchestra, all around the pillar, playing with it. Thunder rumbled; lighting flashed; wind whipped at every surface.

Anyone who saw the ocean below would never again see water as peaceful. Waves slapped down hard on the base of the pillar, attacking it, as determined to topple it as the wind above.

Suddenly, the after one last slap, the ocean calmed to an eerie glass-like stillness.

All sounds faded; the lightning continued.

Three ribs of unnatural light began creeping up the pillar from the ocean, like a plant with a hunger for the sky. Halfway up, the lightning dimmed and stopped raging as well, but the ribs continued climbing.

Finally, the light reached the top. A pulsing began in the three ribs. They pulsed at different frequencies, each speeding up as it throbbed. Hypnotizingly, rhythmically, the unnatural light flashed through the ribs of the pillar, building up power as it went, sucking the power from its only source: the water below.

Bad things happen when the pulses match up.

Then the pulses matched up.

For a split second, nothing happened: Then, a beam of light almost the diameter of the pillar itself shot skyward into the clouds. Absorbing the energy, the clouds glowed as they swelled; then, refining the power of the waves into a single bloodred lightning bolt, a ripping, twanging sound filled the air as it struck the pillar.

A moment ago there had been nothing; then there had been a scarlet bolt of light; now, a man in black robes stood on the column, his hood casting his face into deepest shadow. Within moments the ribs lit up with a fiery red light, this time heading back towards the ocean. Slowly, the waves began to slap the pillar as before.

Apparently there had been a trapdoor beneath the man's feet, because he descended into the shadowy threshold. Within moments, it was as if nothing had ever happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ginny. The whole time he had loved the Burrow, he had loved it because Ron lived there, or because it was an antidote to Privet Drive; he had never realized that Ginny was cause for his comfort. Not that this made any other aspect of the place less worthwhile; the garden, for one, was at least as… Weasley-ish as it had been before.

Harry sat on the stone bench in the center of the garden, near the pool of water that held a few species of color-changing fish. A large bullfrog surprised him by croaking; he hadn't realized it was there.

Why had he never seen it before? The moment this was a conscious thought he wondered if he meant Ginny or the bullfrog.

He had returned from Hogwarts after the battle about a week ago. First to Grimmauld Place, then to the Burrow. The whole place reminded him of her. A whiff of flowery scent was blown towards him by the breeze at his back. That, too, reminded him of Ginny; this house was like a… embodiment of who she was. Besides her own beautiful body. Whatever.

It was never like this with Cho; she had always been the sobbing, damsel-type. Sometimes Harry wondered why he had had a crush on Cho. Sometimes he wondered why he loved Ginny. He had known her for years before he realized his feelings for her.

"Women," Harry said out loud, but not even slightly angry. "It's a miracle I'm not mad. They are enough to drive anyone up the wall."

"Maybe if you let them," said a soft voice in his ear.

Harry's first, and confuddled thought, as she wrapped her arms around him, was 'so it WAS her I smelled earlier.'

"You are a hard man to find, you know," Ginny said, a smile in her voice.

"How many men do you find in your own garden?"

"None like you."

"That's the silver lining I was looking for."

Ginny barely had time to register his taking control of the moment, his reference to what she had once told him and smile at the allusion before their lips met and cleared her mind of any conscious thought.

After quite some time, they broke apart. Ginny sat down next to him on the bench and leaned against him. "Love is so weird."

Harry looked down at her. "What makes you say that?"

"All those years I fancied you, up till my fourth year. And I thought, Harry Potter would never fancy me. He's too…"

Harry smiled inquisitively. "Too what?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, and Harry could feel her breathing slow slightly. "I don't know. But then I thought I was over you. And in fifth year, I was dating other guys, had been for a while, and didn't realize I never had been over you, but it was good that I took that little break anyway."

"I guess so." Harry squeezed her shoulder. It was late before they went back inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Harry, dear, there's something about the battle in the newspaper there," Molly said, pointing at a worn-out armchair with her wand.

Harry smiled. This house was worn out, run down, overstretched, and yet filled with his favorite people in the world. He associated it with feelings of kinship rather than isolation; here, he was Harry, not the Boy who Lived, and whose name meant nothing besides jet-black hair (in contrast to the Weasley norm, which was, of course, flaming red). The smells and sounds of the place gave it the feel of being home away from Hogwarts; one could smell the delicious scent of Mrs. Weasley's next meal while playing wizard's chess in one's pajamas while munching on a bit of toast. This, of course, is exactly what Harry and Ron were doing.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry tore his eyes off his rook and Ron's bishop, who were halfway through a spectacular battle to the death, and grabbed the newspaper. "Battle of Hogwarts…" He read aloud. "He-who-must-not-be-named attacked the castle of Hogwarts two days ago, armed with a large following of…I notice they aren't saying his name yet."

"I wondered about that," Ron said.

"Well, the Ministry has only just removed Vol-Volde—"

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, him, from his control over Pius Thicknesse," Mrs. Weasley said lightly. Old habits die hard.

"It goes on...a standoff occurred between (Voldemort and myself)… spectacularly finishes the Dark Lord single-handedly…well, that's rubbish…the Ministry sure is changing its tune a lot these days, huh?"

"Kingsley feeling generous to you, Harry?" Bill came down the steps with George. "'Course, they don't have much of a choice. If Fudge taught us one thing, it's that the public opinion is the most important thing to the establishment. Can I have a look at that?"

"Yeah, go ahead," said Harry, going back to his and Ron's game of chess. He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with much more politics. Politics for Harry was one bad thing after another. A moment later, George wolf-whistled.

"Lookee here, it says that…some names… and Potter's girlfriend Ginny Weasley all helped put the so-called Death Eaters into Azkaban," George finished, grinning. "Wow, Harry, I never knew!"

"Shut up, George," Harry said, laughing, as he tried to tug the newspaper from his hand.

"Check," said Ron happily from behind him, quickly stealing Harry's attention back. Ron's ears were red.

Ginny sat on the same stone bench in the garden, waiting. She held a flower in her hand. It was a blue lungwort, but more importantly it was a hardy perennial. She didn't want some wimpy flower as a symbol.

Suddenly, Harry came around the corner into the center of the garden. She took three quick strides toward him. She gave him a quick kiss. "Just like last night."

He smiled. They sat down on the bench together. "I brought you this."

Harry took it, smiling even more broadly. "What is it?"

"It's a flower, a perennial."

"It's beautiful…"

"We have them everywhere here."

He wasn't the mushy type. So instead of answering, he creatively used his lips to stop hers. The stone bench felt much more comfortable than usual.

After almost half an hour of this, Harry pulled back for a moment.

"What is it?"

He was staring into her eyes. "Nothing."

She embraced him again, a little angry that he could stop their kissing like that. It was only irksome because Ginny knew she would have done the same just to look into his eyes. This slight annoyance made her more passionate, and she climbed into his lap. She kissed more and more fervently. Harry pulled away once more, and stood up.

"I… I have to go, Ginny. This is getting a little too…"

"Where? Why can't you stay?"

"I have to… erm…"

He left. What was it? Where was he going? It was the chilliest warm afternoon Ginny had ever spent in the garden.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: Short chapter coming up. Not boring, however.

A man in black robes leaned over a desk, his only light provided by a candle whose flame didn't get any lower with the passing night outside. The room he was in was cramped and cylindrical. On his desk stood what appeared to be a Pensieve. Swirling mist shone out of it, but the mist seemed to be a lustrous black instead of the usual shining, vapory white.

The images beneath the surface appeared to greatly interest the man at the desk. Grunting in satisfaction, he stood up suddenly. He pointed a wand at the floor and murmured something that caused dense black smoke to issue from the tip. It sunk to the floor where it condensed into a thick cloud, and began raising him like an elevator, up through the pillar that he used as his hideout.

At the top of the pillar, he stepped off the smoky platform, took two running steps, and leaped. Ocean water rushed up to meet him. Water was like solid rock from this height; he had to be more than a hundred feet up. Water was a smothering, preying creature. Water would crush him if it had the chance.

It never got the chance. At the very last moment, the man twisted in midair, his body's build vaporizing into sparse strands of smoke as he spun.


	5. Chapter 4 continued

Chapter 4

She didn't get it. He had never pushed her away before. She didn't like the feeling this gave her. It was unsettling.

A rational part of her mind thought: he was Harry Potter; there was a good chance he was trying to leave for some noble reason. Or was that too far-fetched? There was no danger left; he had defeated You-Know-Who. Maybe he simply had to go do something, like he said. But 'this was getting a little too…' what?

_He's never been this awkward before._

Yeah but…

_Ginny, you said it yourself: there is no danger left. What he did, he did for his own personal reasons._

Ginny stared vacantly at a nearby plant. She felt like she had been nourishing her love for Harry as though it had been a plant she had loved; she watered it at night, feeding it, while she allowed her imagination to think about him; she had given it sun when she was in his presence; and now, the seed of doubt had been planted, threatening to destroy her very core. It wasn't a very large seed, but it was enough. She was troubled. Then she wondered if she was no better than Romilda Vane; was she being melodramatic? It could be. But yet…

Ginny lay down on the hard, stone bench. What had it been that had caused him to push her away? She felt like she was missing something obvious. If she could just figure this out, maybe she would feel better. What was she missing? She was sure their love was stronger than this, but could come up with no argument against the fact.

Ginny fell into a pensive, slightly depressed, and thoroughly not-restful doze as the sun sank behind the hills. The bench was uncomfortable to sleep on but she was trying to stay almost awake so that her mind might find answers for itself while her conscious mind slept. Finding that this just gave her more room to be depressed, she was about to lie on the ground to sleep and escape from her thoughts when she distinctly heard footsteps on the stepping stones coming from nearby. Good, she thought. Harry's back. He can clear this up.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N: Backtracking a lil bit here. This is right after Harry leaves Ginny in the garden.

Harry stepped out into the lawn, feeling almost angry toward the love of his life. She was a woman of honor, and virtue; didn't she know what had almost happened, what that passion could have lead to? Presumably she had forgotten, in the heat of the moment. It was so obvious, but yet Harry didn't have the guts to say it out loud…

He ran his fingers through his untidy black hair, rubbing his temples. He needed to tell her about this, tell her what she already knew, so that she could avoid making this mistake in the future. But first he would need the guts; and before that, he would need to know how to word his question. He realized where his feet were taking him, and, grabbing his Firebolt out of the broom cupboard, he sped off.

The sensation in his stomach made him feel like he was eleven years old again; it erased most of the thoughts from his mind. Yes, exhilarating was the word. Or liberating. Or escaping. Something like that.

Harry sighed as he flew, slowing down to an easy sixty miles per hour. He was going to have to think about this sometime; why not now? Nothing was ever easy. Especially when women were involved. Having done nothing but wide, low circles around the Weasley property, he touched down in the yard, far away from the garden. Glancing towards the windows, Harry checked to see if Ginny was still downstairs. She wasn't; Harry hoped she had gone to bed, so he could have more time to think.

After taking two steps towards the Burrow, Harry caught his first glimpse of the Burrow.

"Oh, dear lord."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: Here's Ginny again, right where we left off with her a little while ago.

It wasn't Harry. It was her mother. And she did not come with good news.

"Oh Ginny… I am so… unhappy…to see you without Harry."

Wondering why her mother sounded so conflicted, Ginny made an effort to shelve her emotions and sat up.

"Why would that be a bad thing?"

"It's Harry," her mum said weakly. "He's… disappeared…"

Kidnapping. Later, Ginny didn't recall standing up. She didn't recall anything except that she took two steps towards her mother, whispered, "He's… gone?" and blacked out.

Upon becoming aware of being awake, Ginny sat up slowly. According to clichés, she knew, images of the previous night should be coming "rushing back"; but her sleep had offered her no rest from those memories, and she had been dealing with them all night. All she knew was that Harry had either left her or got kidnapped. Regardless, she submitted to a mixture of all the previous night's emotions.

She felt no panic. No fear. Only heartbreak, a cauldron of it that threatened to overflow at any moment. All reason was erased in a corrosive, icy heartbreak.

Ginny locked the door.

A/N: Yup, that was the shortest chapter ever. My chapter lengths vary quite a bit. The next one makes up for it.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

If Harry could have formed a clear thought, he would have wondered whether brains would work if they were liquefied, because that is exactly how he felt his brains were.

He sat in a darkened room, lit by nothing but a candle whose wax wasn't burning any lower. That wasn't the worst bit, though; he was tied to a chair. Literally. Harry fought the desire to laugh; Dudley watched movies like this at age ten. He wouldn't have found it funny if his brain would have been working right, he realized.

Muggle kidnapping and torture. That's when people were tied to chairs. Again Harry almost laughed, stopped, and wondered if the blow to his head had done something to his brain.

_He had seen the Burrow, and instantly known there was danger. A haze of black vapor settled around the base of the building, as though to trap someone inside. Breaking into a run, Harry sprinted towards the building when suddenly-_

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One."

A raspy, old man's voice spoke softly from the shadows.

"I have big plans for you, my young… not friend, that would be too cliché. Well regardless, I wish you to do me a favor."

"Who – " Harry stopped. "Where are you?"

"I call the shots here, Potter. I am free, powerful, and in my element; you, my friend, are tied to a chair. Why tied to a chair, you ask?"

"No, I demand you to release me!"

"Certainly." Harry heard not but felt the Relashio spell free the ropes binding him. Though he was no longer tied, he was stunned, feeling a sense of panic he had not felt in quite some time; his captor had Harry much tighter than he imagined. No novice captor would be willing to undo those magical ropes.

"What do you want?"

"Very direct. Maybe we should start with 'How did we get here?'"

"Fine. How did we get here?"

"Think back..."

Harry remembered. The black smoke had made him panic, he had forgotten reason; he didn't even pull his wand out as he tried to pass through it to get to Ginny and Ron.

"See? You remember. Now ask the next question in line. If we are doing the reverse of who, what, when, where, why, how, then why logically comes next. I have answered that; I need you to do me a favor."

This guy was one eccentric kidnapper. Who cared what order the questions are asked in? Deciding on the spot he might as well play along, Harry said, "I make no promises to a kidnapper, but where are we?"

"Inside of a great stone pillar that was erected by the earliest bearers of magic, off the coast of Britain. We are rather close to Azkaban, but I find this place holds a single person better than Azkaban ever will."

"When can I get out of here?"

"Any time you like. I rather think you should listen to what I have to say first though; it might make it easier on you, and dear Ginny, in the long run."

Harry's anger flared. "What have you done with Ginny?"

From the tone of the old man's voice, Harry knew that he had one eyebrow raised. "Is that to be your 'what' question? Or would you rather know what I would like you to do, which will save Ginny?"

"Well-no, I-What do I have to do to save her?"

"It is quite simple. I have put a charm on your lips. When you leave here, you will be back at the Burrow, and she will be there as well. If you kiss her, your lips will draw out the essence of love from her body. That is why you use this jar" -it appeared- "to capture it and bring it to me. Here is the problem: her love is almost certainly tied to her soul, and kissing her would remove the soul from her body."

"How would that save her?"

"Do you know what I am?"

The question caught Harry off guard. "No."

A/N: Who is he? Please review the story and say who you think this guy is (before you find out obviously). He's not an original character.

"I was a man. I was a very old man. Locked in a prison." His voice smiled. "It was not long before I escaped. I left behind a replica of myself, in case someone were to call. I escaped from Nurmengard. Do you know how I escaped from Nurmengard?"

"I don't."

"I escaped easily; Nurmengard held no secrets from me. It is I who created that prison in the first place…"

Dread settled slowly over the man tied to the chair. "Grindelwald?"

"That's right," he said, and stepped out of the shadows. His face and body resembled nothing of the man Harry had seen in his vision of Voldemort killing Grindelwald; this man was young, fit, and in his prime. He reminded Harry of a man somewhere between the 18-year-old Grindelwald that Harry had seen in the photograph from _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ and the young adult Tom Riddle from the Pensieve. Like Riddle, Grindelwald's features were slightly blurred as if burned…

"But I am now much more than a man."

This stirred something in Harry's memory… _But I am much, much more than a man…_

"You remind me of Riddle."

"Yes, Potter, I am aware of that… I did not make horcruxes like him, however. Yes, I know of his horcruxes. I had planned on using them myself, if Albus hadn't put down the idea at once. Horcruxes aren't the only power of evil that can do this to my appearance." He indicated his face. "But I know what the 'Dark Lord' did not; love contains a power of its own. He underestimated it; I will not. Love should be regarded with respect as an equal to hate. That is why I need your help."

"Ginny's, you mean." The statement sounded quite calm, but any Legilimens could feel the waves of hate and anger radiating off of his body.

"Yes… you see, the love between you is so pure. It has withstood so much; emotional torture of being apart while in danger, her acceptance of you as a marked man, your realization of who you had to become for her… do you not have a flower in your pocket from her at this moment?"

Harry had forgotten about that. "Yes."

"A perennial?" Grindelwald asked swiftly.

"I – believe so…"

"Even Ginny recognizes how resilient your relationship is. I simply can't wait for you to bring back the essence of love for me."

"Essence of love? What's—" He stopped again with a small noise of anguished frustration. "Why do you need this 'essence of love'? I will not help you!"

"Yes, you will."

"The Cruciatus curse won't do you any good, Grindelwald. Try me."

"No, I agree. But there is something more," Grindelwald looked exceptionally devious at this point. Harry wanted to stab him. He wondered whether he had anything pointy with him. "That charm I placed on your lips does more than draw the power from Ginny when you kiss her. It prevents you from speaking the truth; you will be unable to communicate the fact that it was I who set this all up. Do you understand now?"

The sturdy, four-legged chair seemed to wobble as Harry's vision swam again in sudden realization. "Ahh…"

"I thought you might see. You can't tip her off on what is going on; you can't kiss her; she will fall out of love with you, thinking that you don't love her anymore. Do you know why I decided to kidnap you now, and not earlier?"

"Because of what happened last night… she doubts me now… you were waiting for this opportunity."

"Exactly. You will kiss her, because that is going to be the only way to communicate the fact that you do still love her. On the bright side, maybe the essence of love isn't directly connected to her soul. You could draw it out of her without even damaging your girlfriend… much…"

The whole situation felt hopeless to Harry; without consciously realizing he spoke, the words were out of his mouth. "Could I write down what happened and show her the note?"

Harry was surprised by the sudden bang of Grindelwald's fist on the desk. "No, Potter, dang it! Don't you understand? The whole "lips" thing, that's just theatrics! I'm not stupid, of course you couldn't write it down. Schemes are no fun without theatrics. I could have kidnapped you and brought you to the Weird Sisters concert I was planning on attending tonight, which would have afforded almost as much privacy due to the loud noise, but that would be lame. Theatrics, Potter. Now," Grindelwald growled, thrusting the jar into his hands, "go get me that girl's soul!"


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Harry was conscious of his feet touching the ground and realized he had just Apparated back to the Burrow. Stumbling, Harry made it halfway towards the crooked little house before a short red-haired person came trotting towards him. Harry became aware that he was sobbing as the person hugged him.

For a long time, Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, but just hugged him. Harry didn't say anything, and stopped sobbing. "You've been gone for almost a full day now," a watery-eyed Molly said quietly. That surprised him. Maybe he had been out cold longer than he thought.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered.

"Don't be, dear, but where were you? We thought for sure you were killed, or kidnapped… how did you get back? Did you escape?" She wiped her eyes on her chronically attached apron. "I'm being silly… you don't want to think about that right now, come in and eat something…"

Harry never felt less hungry. He wanted to shut himself in his room and sob, and think. He had to think of something. There was no other option. The alternative would destroy two souls.

Well, look on the bright side, the sarcastic part of her brain said. Now you know why he left you in the garden. His excuse was that it was going too far, that he didn't want anything to happen without virtue. That's what he justified it with. She remembered how conflicted her mother had been when she saw that Harry hadn't been with Ginny that fateful night.

_Last _night. Huh. Felt like a week ago.

Ginny stopped crying. Crying was useless. She had learned that throughout her childhood. All it did was make you thirsty, and she wanted no excuse to go downstairs, to leave her bedroom sanctuary. The lack of Harry threatened to overwhelm her as she slid to the floor with her back against the wall.

She thought he had loved her; no, she knew he had loved her, for at least a while. He had. He had to have. He did.

Now, though, she wasn't so sure. One moment Harry walks out of the garden on her, and she had felt upset. Then, she thought she realized why Harry did this, and it was almost resolved; and then he had to go and run away.

Idly she realized her mother ought to be on her way up with a tray of food. The other two trays' worth sat in the corner of her room, untouched; if she ever got over this, she could use some kind of heating charm on them and eat them. For the moment the powers of hunger and magic had deserted her. Maybe she still had those powers, but was too apathetic to care. Regardless, it didn't matter.

Sure enough, that tell-tale stair began to creak as someone made their way upstairs. It creaked again. Two people. Maybe Ron and Mum. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

The door to George's old room opened, and shut; she could hear it. Not twenty-four hours ago the love of her life had slept in that very room. Now the door was just a sound. Why?

She smelled chicken; the second person must have been her mother with the food. That stirred something. George must have come home for some reason. Ginny hoped her mother would say something to him so that he didn't feel like she was avoiding him. She had no strength left to venture beyond her room any more. In this very spot, she had kissed him on his seventeenth…

With any other guy, she would only be confused at this point, not all but heartbroken. Yet it had never made sense in the first place. At first he had no feelings for her, and then he did, and now, it appeared, he didn't. Well, it could be that he was just using her. How could she know?

Suddenly, the door opened just a crack. "Ginny, I have your dinner. I wouldn't have bothered bringing up the food because I knew you wouldn't eat it, but something wonderful has happened." So Mum knew she wasn't eating. Ginny's subconscious gave a noncommittal grunt.

"What's happened, Mum?"

"Harry's back."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Mum, I know you want me to come out there, but that is just cruel." Ginny slid against the wall to the floor, knees up to her chest. "Harry didn't come back. He wouldn't have."

"Don't talk nonsense, Ginny. He's back, and you are the cause of that. He won't tell me what happened but I'm sure he will tell you."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and decided to put a stop to her mother's bluff. "Mum, if Harry was back, he wouldn't have mentioned me. He would have been much more distant. If Harry really returned, did he mention me, even once?"

Ginny expected her mother to say, "Of course he has!" or "Dear, he's been talking about you since he returned." What she didn't expect was for a silence to fall outside the door, and after a lengthy pause, to hear, "No, he hasn't. Maybe you are right."

Her mum's footsteps faded down the hallway. He really was back. But his feelings for her appeared to have changed...

Why hadn't he avoided this place after he left? Was it Ron that pulled him back? It made no sense. Ginny knew her mother was realizing for the first time that he hadn't been kidnapped; he had left the Burrow because he needed to leave Ginny.

Harry lay on Fred's mattress, thinking. And sobbing. He did a lot of sobbing nowadays. For a shining year, almost, he had held the most beautiful, unreal thing with her. Now it was ruined, by a Dark wizard of the past, no less. His life never felt like it would ever experience the pleasure of being in love; he had been marked from birth. Now that he had experienced it, to take it away was to banish his soul.

Ginny probably hated him by now. It was the day after his return and he did not dare go outside this bedroom door. She had the "seed of doubt" that Grindelwald had talked about; it probably flourished this very moment. Ginny was not dramatic, but he knew that she never thought he truly loved her until recently, because he had ignored her all throughout his first five years at Hogwarts. If she knew how painful it was to accept the fact that he had been ignoring her, maybe she wouldn't doubt him…

Harry knew what Grindelwald planned; he was out to get the power of love to merge with the power of his own hate. This meant that if Ginny's love for Harry died, then Grindelwald died too; his hate was relying on a balancing force of love, which must be introduced soon or he would perish.

But letting Ginny's love die was unthinkable.

Harry stood up and walked out of the room; he needed to talk to her.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Ginny froze. The door was her shield. Nobody had dared tap at that door since Harry had returned. Why start now?

It had to be Harry out there.

After mulling over her options for quite some time, Ginny came up with one phrase to describe her emotions: she didn't know what to think about Harry anymore. When she realized this, she realized that in order to figure out what was going on, for good or for bad, she had to let him in. She had to know why.

"Come in, Harry."

He didn't ask how she knew it was him as he stepped into the room. "Ginny, I don't know how to say this but…"

"What?"

Harry looked grave. "Did you think I had been avoiding you, like I ran away?"  
"Yes," Ginny said simply. "Yes, I did. I see no evidence against that. Harry, one moment we were – well we were kissing – and the next moment you aren't even in the garden with me; you disappeared. The next thing after that, you are gone. What happened? Is it just because we were taking it too far?"

"Ginny, I didn't run away. I was – " His words stopped but his lips kept moving; Ginny knew how he felt. After a few seconds of this, he stopped and sighed. "Fine, I was running away. You're right. I won't come back."

Ginny slumped against the door. She was surprised to find that she wasn't crying.

Harry felt like a dementor. Doomed never to love, he was banished to avoid kissing to avoid sucking out someone's soul. He pulled out the jar from his pocket and ran his fingers over it. It was completely transparent except for the edges and the places where light shone on it. Clinking sounds echoed softly with every breath, coming from the jar. Its base was gilded in silver in the shape of a yin-yang…

Harry took the flower from his pocket. It was wilting profoundly, and Harry put it in the jar. He sealed it. It would be a reminder of his dilemma.

Harry's thoughts turned to Ginny, which was unavoidable. He envisioned her, her full hourglass-shaped body, her beautiful brown eyes, her flaming red and unspeakably attractive hair. And that flowery scent. That too, was a part of her. He, too, was a part of her. He was lost inside her, and that hadn't been a problem before. Now he felt trapped; he liked how it was, and someone was forcing him to uproot himself and deny his love for her.

Why did Grindelwald have to play it this way? He could die. He knew that, Harry was sure. If Harry didn't bring the essence of Ginny's love to Grindelwald, he would die. He, Harry, had options; they ranged from terrible to terrible, with none worse or better than the others. He could let Grindelwald die, and then go after Ginny to tell her he loved her; that was useless. Ginny would probably hate him by then, but certainly not love him; he had gone after her in his sixth year at Hogwarts and was surprised to find that she hadn't given up on him. She would give up on him if he took this route.

Ginny's soul rested upon his shoulders, and he sat there weighing it out, testing it. What could he do? Time was short. Grindelwald and Ginny's love for him died together. Soon, that funeral bell would toll. No; Grindelwald, Ginny's love, and Harry would die together. That moment drew nearer every moment. She had already told him he didn't love her.

Harry stood up with purpose. His decision was made.


	12. Chapter 11 Deliciously Dark Version

Chapter 11: Til Death (Deliciously Dark)

A/N: Thank you to all who have stuck through to this chapter! As I have said, I am proud of the plotline in this story and how it was executed, so I appreciate all the more the readers for it. Because you are reading this, you made your choice as to what ending to take. If you review, please mention which ending you chose to read, or both! Thanks again.

He supposed he had felt this way when he had chosen not to race to the Elder Wand with Voldemort; he could not remember how it felt. The enormity of his decision stunned him. Vaguely, it also reminded him of when he felt like he was about to die last year when he walked towards Voldemort willingly…

He took out his wand; the one thing he agreed with Grindelwald on was that theatrics make everything better. From now on, he would use his wand to do everyday tasks. That would be his small appreciation for what he was about to do.

Ginny.

Why had this woman been the beginning, and end, of his life? Well, his love life anyway. All his sense of identity had left him.

Harry looked down at the garden through the window. This was worse than when he went to give himself over when he had been killed; this was beyond that. That had been to save the ones he loved. Now, however…

Out the window, he saw her. It was the first time he had seen her outside in days. Her feet were dangling in the pond at the center of the garden. He strode over and opened the door.

Ginny sat with her feet dangling in the water. As much as she thought Harry didn't love her, a small, irrational part of her brain objected. It had been so pure when it had been; how could it have died, so suddenly? The irrational part wondered if she was being overdramatic; the rational part pointed out that he wouldn't have avoided her if he did.

There were footsteps coming up the stepping stones. Her first thought was of her mother; she undoubtedly would be would be coming to force some food down her throat. Sighing, Ginny took her legs out of the water and stood up.

"Ginny." It was Harry's voice, but not in a tone she had ever heard before. Her heart sank.

"What is it, Harry?" She had no more emotion left. Unless she really was being overdramatic, this encounter could not do her any good.

Silence. Harry was staring into her eyes like a drowning man.

"I want you to know," Harry said slowly, "that I always loved you."

With his wand, without ever taking his eyes from hers, he conjured a jar out of thin air. She got a glimpse of the bottom: gilded silver showed a yin-yang symbol. He stepped forward.

Slow motion, she thought. Time dragged by. She got the impression that her life had led up to this point, an impression undoubtedly cast by Harry's overly serious demeanor.

"Why didn't you find me?" The words were soft, caring. He didn't answer. She didn't like the way his jade-green eyes were gleaming. "Why do you want me to know this?"

Again, he didn't answer. His lips moved soundlessly. One more step, and he was barely an inch away from her. She saw his eyes looking her up and down. She gazed into his eyes.

He kissed her.

It was gentle, at first, but as though his time was short, Harry got more and more urgent about it. It was exhilarating… reminiscent… and… oddly draining…

Seconds later, Ginny collapsed to the ground. The last thing she saw was a crackling ball of light emerging from her lips. It could only be one thing: the essence of her love. She recognized it because it embodied her very soul. Then everything went hazy… 

He barely felt his arm swooping through the air, capturing the small round orb. He certainly didn't feel any sense of the Apparition limbo he was accustomed to, and the constant rain didn't even faze him when he appeared on top of the pillar. Pointing his wand at the ground, he said, "I have the jar. Let me in."

The pillar beneath his feet started sinking, slowly. He didn't care. He had all the time in the world. Now that he had the jar, Grindelwald would know he was invincible to Ginny's love dying.

"Excellent…" Grindelwald's voice echoed from the shadows once more. "Well then… how did it go?" He didn't bother answering. "Is she dead?"

He didn't answer again. He wasn't planning on using his voice again.

"Hmm… pity… she may not be dead, you know. It all depends on how it was extracted from her. If you kissed her gently, she may have been able to regenerate her essence of love even as it was pulled from her body… if it wasn't, that's a pity. I have no wish for her to die. But I will be killing you, once I have the power of both the light and the dark, the love and the hate. Hand it over."

He didn't move. Normally, he wouldn't care if Grindelwald killed him, because Ginny was already dead or dying; but he had a plan. Never would he have killed his girlfriend without reason.

"Give it to me, boy. Now. Then I will kill you. Your life has become pathetic as it is; you may as well let me end it."

"Why kill me?" he mumbled the words, as a time waster.

"Theatrics, stupid boy. If another Dark wizard killed he whom even Voldemort could not, fear would surround me like a black cloud; it would be worse than the days when he ruled all. But enough talk. The cauldron is waiting. Give me the essence of love!"

He stepped forward, and popped the lid of the jar. The orb didn't move. Its light was fading. "You've made at least one major mistake, Grindelwald," he said mechanically. "Undiluted, the essence of one will take over the other." He took one more step forward. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

He caught Grindelwald before he hit the floor. The orb wouldn't make it back to Ginny's body; it faded even as he watched it. Leaning over the young man's face, he forced his lips open, and emptied the contents of the jar into the man's mouth.

He didn't stay to watch. Soon, Grindelwald would be changed into a warrior of love. His only warrior of love lay dying in the garden of the burrow. Turning on the spot, he Disapparated.

"Arthur, quick! Get Harry! She can't say anything to us, she says her soul is too weak! Arthur, I – it's Ginny she's – our daughter… I think she's…"

He stepped into the little patio with the pond. Ginny lay, crumpled, on the stone, right where Harry had left her.

"Harry." He knelt down next to her. "My soul is slipping out of my body; I can feel it." It wasn't a question, and he didn't bother denying it. "I have no time. I must ask you something."

"Anything, dear. Anything you like. My life is yours."

"Did you truly always love me?"

"Yes." One tear. Just one. "Til death."

"Stay with me, Harry. Hold me."

He gazed into her beautiful, brown eyes. One agonizing moment later, they glazed over. She was gone.

In another life, he may have speculated as to how such beautiful eyes could appear to be so agonizingly unbearable to look at in one moment. As it was, he had no conscious thoughts. As it was, he lifted his wand. Conjuring an object out of thin air, he held it to his heart.

A/N: Well, there it is. I'll leave it to you to guess what the object was. I could give a hint if you wanted, but in any case, please remember to review. Also, feedback by email is fine, contact me at . If you want, you can lighten the mood a bit by going back and reading the other alternate ending (assuming that I have posted that chapter by the time you read it; I haven't worked on that ending yet). Please don't review and point out that this ending doesn't correspond with the epilogue after book 7; I already know that. Thanks again for reading.


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